


Melting Point

by archive (cryogenia)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Implied Sexuality, M/M, but lyrical nonetheless, not a songfic per se, rescued from livejournal, team showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 08:44:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10613358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryogenia/pseuds/archive
Summary: He's never believed that these things happen for a reason, but against all reason, sometimes they can.





	

Four 'o clock on a Friday, and it is a rare afternoon: warm like spring but the moon outside is already present, a ghost; fall, but the leaves are not yet dying, only golden. The sun is golden too, and he wants to curl up like a lazy cat. The bed is silky, the sheets look like butter in the warm light, and Alfons is taking a shower and Edward is not sure that he ever wants to move again.   
  
He can't keep himself from grinning. It is stupid, but his whole body is just one long smile and he twists, satisfied, against the sheets. He comes here sometimes and he's not even sure why he's doing it, until Alfons smiles a certain way and then yes, _there_ , somehow all of him just comes undone. This strange stormy relationship (partner _friend_ brother? _not_ brother) just melts him into a puddle sometimes, and he still isn't sure if he's going to survive it.  
  
He's probably supposed to leave now. He contemplates the door and gets as far as picking his shirt up (which proves not to be his at all) and then there he is at the bathroom door, entranced by the steam. He's probably not supposed to let himself in either, but he can still _see_ Alfons whenever he closes his eyes, so he creaks the door open and sneaks in, enchanted.   
  
Takes in everything. He sees the line of the man's body through the thin shower curtain, reflected again across in the mirror, and he falls down on what to say. Something clean, let it be clever, but all he really wants is to pull him close, slide to his knees, and go down on him for an hour. Hold him until he understands why touching him burns so much.   
  
Water thunders, vapor clings; Alfons lifts his head and notices him and still he just stares, blinded.  
  
He's annoyed. Water stops and Alfons gets out, both cheeks blazing. He wraps a towel around indignantly and snatches his shirt from where it still hangs on Edward's prosthetics's fingertips, puts that back on too. Edward backpedals toward the door, two steps at a time, and Alfons's wet hair catches light streaming in from the bedroom, burns healthy and golden, and he wants to touch that too even though it's sopping.  
  
 _You need your own shower,_ Alfons says, but no, no he doesn't; his own won't have Alfons in it, and the bathroom door is closing but he throws a desperate foot against it. And his hands reach out before he knows it and like always he thinks of Icarus - he has never believed that anything happens for a reason, and he's still not sure he trusts this, but ever since he read that myth, he thinks might know what it means to want to fly.  
  
 _I don't know why we need this,_ he admits, but he snakes his arms around anyway and pulls the man down to kiss him and Alfons, twice as tall, has the grace to lean over, let the towel fall. He walks Alfons backwards to the shower, and they don't have to _know_ for this, for once, only see how blinding it is.   
  
Alfons turns the shower on again, groping for the tap behind them, and he's still got his work shirt on, and that does not occur to either of them until it is see-through.  
  
***

  
  
Art by [](http://hime1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**hime1999**](http://hime1999.livejournal.com/)

  
  
***  
  
Five 'o clock on a Friday, a rare early evening; the shadows are getting long already and cool evening breeze chases the sun away with clouds. Edward is twisted up with him in bed and they are spread across the sheets like butter, too tired to move and not sure they might ever be capable again. He looks down at the man and strokes him, and Edward rumbles a little and arches into his hand, just like a lazy cat.  
  
 _I don't know why we need this,_ Edward had said, and Alfons doesn't know either. Edward is a jigsaw he will never have the missing piece to, a kite without a string, and the man drifts in and out of Alfons's life whenever he sees fit. He supposes that he must live somewhere, (perhaps with his father?) but he can't help but see that lately more and more of Edward's things are being left behind in the man's wake (not just research notes anymore, socks, books, underwear), and he sees the tidal wave coming and wonders if he is going to survive it.  
  
 _You could stay here,_ he murmurs, the same thing he always does, straight into a mouthful of Edward's bright hair; the color alone is enough to be blinding.  
  
 _Mmm,_ Edward says noncommittally. His heart cheers. It's not like him but he still snuggles closer, tilts the man's head up and just kisses him and kisses him.  
  
This time, Edward hasn't said _no_ yet.  
  
And he knows he is going to get burned some day, and he knows that he probably should quit while he's ahead, but Edward's hands are sliding, wrinkled from the shower, and he tastes like sex and sunlight. He decides he doesn't care. He's never believed that these things happen for a reason, but against all reason, maybe sometimes they can.   
  
He closes his eyes and still sees Edward through his eyelids; takes the moment of hope and lets it run.  
  
The two of them rise up and then they fade into each other, together with the day.  
  
***


End file.
